


The Boy from Football Camp

by orangina



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet, Camp, Football, Friendship, Friendship/Love, German National Team, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Shyness, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:25:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangina/pseuds/orangina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manuel is a shy teenager who is attending a weeklong football day camp. Approached and befriended (or is it more?) by a boy named Thomas, Manuel learns a hard lesson about love and friendship by the time the week of camp is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> This work has seven chapters: five for each day of the week at camp, and two to follow up with what happens after. I hope you like it!

**MONDAY**

Manuel was hot and exhausted.

He let out a sigh of relief as he allowed his body to sink to a seated position, his back against a large tree. The tree was set far off from the field, putting him in a position to see what all the other boys were doing. Some of them had gathered by the goalposts; others, like Manuel, were eager for some relief from the beating sun and had settled with their friends under trees. But not anywhere near Manuel’s tree, of course.

The first morning of the weeklong camp had been brutal, and it was only lunchtime. The coaches worked them hard and water breaks were scarce and brief. Manuel liked it, though. It gave him something to focus on; there was no room for anything else but pain in his mind.

Basking in the cool shade, Manuel spread out his lunch items before him. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an apple, a bag of potato chips, some baby carrots, and last night’s leftovers sealed in a container. He always packed the same thing for lunch, whether he was at school or anywhere else. That was how he liked it.

“I don’t want to see any trash on the field when you guys are done!” a coach, one of the more forgiving ones, called out to the boys by the goalposts, and they immediately responded in the affirmative.

“Yes, sir!”

“Don’t worry about it!”

“We’ll clean up!”

Manuel smiled at this exchange. Then he began eating his lunch, watching everything that was going on around him, and thinking. Manuel spent a lot of time thinking. About himself, his interactions with others, his school, his football team, hot girls, and the confusing world he lived in. At times when Manuel was focused on himself, he typically pondered his tendency to be alone. He didn’t mind, he liked it really, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to constantly be surrounded by loud, joking friends so he wouldn’t have to think so much.

While Manuel ate and thought, his body rested and recovered. The boys by the goalposts finished eating and began a pick-up game. How they still had the energy to play, Manuel hadn’t the slightest idea; although they had spend the entire morning doing strength training and repetitive drills, so he understood their desire to scrimmage. But he wasn’t sure how he was going to drag himself away from his little haven when the whistle blew signalling the end of lunch. It was so comfortable.

Manuel watched the scrimmage closely. One of the boys, a tall, skinny, brown-haired one, was significantly more talented than the others. He dribbled and spun past them easily and took ridiculous shots that somehow always ended up in the net. Another boy, clearly frustrated by his success, tackled him to the grass and Manuel heard laughter.

All too soon, it couldn’t have been more than half an hour, the whistle sounded and Manuel groaned. Slowly, he repacked his uneaten items, collected his trash to throw away, and grudgingly returned to the field, dragging his feet and sipping water.

“I don’t like your attitude, kid. Take two laps,” a coach snapped at Manuel.

Manuel saved the eye roll for after he had begun his punishment and was out of sight halfway around the track.


	2. Tuesday

**TUESDAY**

The second day of football camp proved to be very similar to the first. Once again, when that wonderful lunch break was given, Manuel retreated to his same tree from yesterday. He felt very much the same as yesterday: hot, tired, and hungry, but today there was the added annoyance of soreness. His butt hurt when he sat down on it, his quads and hamstrings ached as he stretched his legs out, and his upper body felt numb from the hundreds of push-ups they had done.

By the time the goalpost boys finished eating and started another pick-up game, Manuel had already wolfed down his entire lunch and moved to lay on his back. Hands folded on top of his stomach, he looked up longingly at the canopy of bright green leaves, sunlight twinkling through the gaps. He suddenly became aware of the various sounds of birds and insects coming from all around him. Manuel relaxed. He let his mind drift away, and at some point the fact that he was at football camp completely abandoned him.

“Heads up!” He heard someone yell and was snatched back into unforgiving reality.

Manuel propped himself up on his elbows, shook his head to clear it, and turned just in time to be pummeled straight in the face by a football. He sat up and scooped up the ball like he hadn’t even felt the impact.

The brown-haired boy from yesterday was jogging towards him. “Sorry about that!” he called.

“It’s okay,” Manuel said. He rolled the ball back to the boy, who picked it up and tucked it under his arm but continued to approach Manuel, stopping a few feet in front of him.

“What are you sitting here all by yourself for?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Manuel answered, shrugging. “I was just eating my lunch.”

The boy frowned. “Well, you’re done eating now, right? Wanna come play with us?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m pretty exhausted. Thanks for inviting me, though.” Manuel bit his lip and looked up at the boy with interest. Never before had he been approached and asked to join a group of other kids.

“Please? You can play in goal so you don’t have to run around as much?” The boy was begging now. Why, Manuel did not know.

But before he could come up with an excuse, the boy came closer and offered Manuel a hand, which he took. A strange gesture off the field, but this boy was already acting pretty strange towards him so it was only fitting. Manuel felt himself being pulled up and as the boy began the trek back to the field, he followed automatically. It was like the boy was a magnet.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” the boy said earnestly as he looked over his shoulder back at Manuel.

“Sure,” Manuel responded lamely. He couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. It was only a short pick-up game with a couple of guys during lunch break. But he didn’t know anyone, and he seldom played in goal. Manuel didn’t like the unfamiliar.

Once he and the boy reached the field, he positioned himself in front of the net with his hands on his knees. I can do this, he told himself.

And much to his surprise, he saved every ball that was booted towards his net, even the ones from the brown-haired boy. He dove hard and he jumped up high, he sprinted to the balls that were rolling dangerously towards the goal and scooped them up before the strikers could reach them. The other boys were in awe.

“Let’s just have a penalty shootout. See if anyone can actually score on this little fucker or if he’s taking steroids,” one of the boys suggested loudly after Manuel had made another brilliant save.

So that’s exactly what they did. Still, Manuel saved goal after goal after goal, leaving the shooter to throw his hands up in defeat while the others hooted and marvelled. Manuel couldn’t help the proud smile that took over his face.

The boy who had retrieved the ball from Manuel's tree was up next, and Manuel’s heart rate quickened. If he was going to let a ball by him, now would be his best chance. The boy took several steps back and Manuel stood ready with his arms out and knees bent. Bring it on, thought Manuel.

The boy ran towards the ball and booted it with all his might. But Manuel anticipated the shot and reacted too soon. He dove the wrong way, and the ball landed beautifully in the upper left corner of the net. As he lay in the grass, he heard the boys celebrating and slapping hands with the scorer. He was disappointed in himself, but equally as impressed with this boy.

The whistle blew and lunch was over. Manuel pushed himself up and was ready to jog to catch up with the rest of the boys as they headed for the sideline. There was no need to, however; the boy who had scored had turned around and was waiting for Manuel. For some odd reason, Manuel’s stomach did a quick leap. The boy was waiting. For him.

Manuel tried his very best to appear casual as they began walking side by side, although he wasn’t sure how successful he was.

“How come you didn’t tell anyone you were so good in goal?” the boy asked incredulously.

“I don’t usually play in goal,” Manuel admitted. He felt wetness gathering on his palms and underarms, and he had a feeling it had nothing to do with the heat.

“Well, you should,” the boy replied simply.

“Thanks,” Manuel said, meaning it. He added quickly, “You’re really good, too.” He wanted to elaborate, he wanted to comment on how the boy made it seem like the defenders were not even there, the way he dribbled right through them and tucked the ball straight into the back of the net like it was the easiest thing in the world. But he didn’t want to admit how closely he'd been watching him.

The boy turned and flashed him a toothy grin which Manuel felt himself return without even thinking about it.

“Alright, gents, let’s stop flirting with each other and pay attention.” Uh oh. Manuel had been so distracted that he did not realize they had already joined the rest of the group by the sideline.

\---

When Manuel was in bed that night, he found that another topic had been added on top of his usual catalogue of thinking: the boy from football camp.


	3. Wednesday

**WEDNESDAY**

It was easy to say that everyone's favorite part of football camp was lunch. For the others, it was because the breaks provided some much needed relief from the boring drills and grueling conditioning and a chance to satisfy their raging hunger. But for Manuel, it was became more than just that. He discovered that he was very much looking forward to talking to the boy again. He crossed his fingers and hoped the entire morning that he would be invited back to the goalpost boys' scrimmage.

When lunchtime came, Manuel once again headed directly for his tree. What was the boy's name? He wondered as he spread out his food. Where does he go to school? Manuel was certain he had never played against him on his school team; he definitely would have remembered. So he concluded that the boy was from another district.

Manuel stuck some carrots into his mouth and chewed while he searched the goalpost group for the boy. Ah, there he was, sitting with his back towards Manuel's tree. What was his favorite ice cream flavor? Another handful of carrots, and Manuel witnessed the boy throw back his head as he laughed openly. When were they going to start their pick-up game, and wait, how on earth was Manuel supposed to join if no one accidentally kicked the ball over by his tree today? The thought hadn't occurred to him until now. Maybe he wouldn't get to hang out with the boy after all. Manuel tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

He opened the bag of potato chips in an attempt to distract himself. It's just a stupid football camp, he thought. It was finishing in two days, anyway, and he probably wouldn't care about not having played in a pick-up game during lunch break by then. Right? Would he? Just as Manuel was thinking these things, the boy looked over his shoulder. In Manuel's direction. Directly at Manuel. Was it possible to make eye contact at this distant?

The goalpost boys started standing up. So, they were starting their scrimmage now. And the boy had just looked for him. Or was he just imagining it? Manuel's heart began to hammer against his ribcage. This only intensified, and butterflies flew around his stomach, when he saw that the boy was heading for his tree. Was he? Yes, he really was. Should he stand up? Start putting his lunch away? He had barely eaten, but if they were starting now - or maybe he should just keep eating until he was actually invited.

Before Manuel could decide what to do, the boy had sat down, cross legged, right across from Manuel, who dropped a chip he had just put in his mouth.

"Hey, blondie," said the boy. He picked up the chip Manuel had dropped and popped it in his own mouth. Which just made Manuel's mouth fall open all over again.

The boy giggled as he crunched on the chip. "What?" he said innocently.

"That fell out of my mouth."

The boy shrugged. "So?"

Manuel just stared at him.

"What's your name anyway? You never told me." As the boy said this, he reached into the bag of chips at the same time Manuel did. Their hands brushed, and Manuel felt a shooting sensation travel up his arm.

"Huh? Me?" The side of his hand where the boy's skin had touched felt like it was burning. In a good way.

The boy rolled his eyes as he shoved the handful of chips into his mouth. "No. The other guy who's hanging around this fucking tree in the middle of nowhere with us."

Manuel blinked and looked around stupidly before he realized what he was doing. The boy laughed pleasantly. Embarrassed, Manuel quickly grabbed his water bottle and starting drinking as if this would redeem his mistake. Which turned out to be an even bigger mistake in itself.

"You're kinda cute," the boy said matter-of-factly.

And Manuel began choking fully and unabashedly on his water.

He coughed hard. Water leaked from his nose. He sputtered. His throat itched badly, causing his eyes to tear up. He coughed some more. As all this was happening to Manuel, the boy rushed to his side and began thumping his back affectionately.

Once the coughing died down, Manuel lifted his shirt to wipe his eyes and nose. He was beyond embarrassed. This was absolutely humiliating.

"Alright?" The boy's demeanor softened significantly, and he looked at Manuel with concern in his eyes. His eyes were very blue, Manuel noted.

Manuel tried to answer, but instead fell into another brief coughing fit. More back thumping.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, sadness laced in his voice. "I shouldn't have said that. Forget it."

"No, it's fine. Really, it is," Manuel said truthfully, hoping he conveyed this truth to the poor boy. "Anyway, to answer your question, I'm Manuel."

"Manuel? Nice to meet you, Manuel. I'm Thomas." He seemed glad for the change in subject.

Manuel smiled. "Nice to meet you, Thomas."

"Well, Manuel, what do you say we go play some football? After all, that's what I came over here for. To come get you for the pick-up, I mean." The last part sounded forced, and Manuel wondered if that’s really why he came over.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

They stood up and hurried onto the field to catch the last few minutes of the pick-up.

It was a lie. Manuel hadn’t wanted to go play football at all. He wanted to sit there and keep talking to the boy. Hopefully managing to swallow his water properly from now on. And he couldn’t help but suspect that that’s what Thomas had wanted to do as well. In fact, he began wondering if the ball rolling off to his tree yesterday had really been an accident. Of course it hadn’t been. No way could someone have kicked it all the way over to his tree on accident. That had to have been intentional.

\---

Manuel had a hard time sleeping that night. He was excited. He tossed and turned, thinking about everything that had happened today during lunch break and wondering what, if anything, would happen tomorrow. When he finally did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with blue eyes and potato chips.


	4. Thursday

**THURSDAY**

Finally. Lunch break was here. Manuel had been anxiously awaiting these precious 30 minutes since they had ended 24 hours ago. He only had two more, he had to make the best of them.

Today, he altered his routine and looked around for his new friend Thomas before taking the trek to his tree. He wasn’t surprised when he couldn’t find him amidst the hoards of sweaty bodies, scrambling around for water and bagged lunches. He gave up and withdrew from the throng to once again settle by his tree, far away from everyone. Thomas was more likely to find him there, anyway. Well, that is, if Thomas was looking for Manuel, too.

It was especially hot today, and Manuel was very conscious of how sweaty and disgusting he was. His shirt clung to his skin, and he was covered in dirt and grass from taking slides. His skin itched, particularly underneath his long socks and shin guards. After sitting down, he immediately rolled down his socks and slipped off the shin guards to give his legs some fresh air.

“Hey, Manuel.” He looked up to see Thomas standing above him, looking no more glorious than he did in a thick layer of sweat and dirt.

“Oh, hi Thomas,” Manuel answered lightly, pretending he was surprised to see the boy and offering him a lopsided grin.

Thomas fiddled with his thumbs. “Mind if I sit here with you today?”

“Not at all.”

Manuel’s easy response seemed to reassure Thomas, and he sat down clumsily in front of Manuel.

“Good idea,” he said, noticing Manuel’s shin guards tossed to the side and preparing to do the same.

Thomas fumbled around, appearing to be having difficulties due to the heavy moisture. He frowned and bit his lip in concentration, but his hands were swollen from the heat and uncoordinated and refused to cooperate.

“Need some help?” Manuel offered gently.

“Yeah,” Thomas admitted in frustration. He leaned back and Manuel got to work, first pulling down his dirt-stained socks and then loosening his shin guards. Manuel's hands kept brushing against the boy’s sticky skin as he worked, sending chills through his body, and he saw that Thomas had closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open.

“There,” Manuel announced, giving the boy’s shins one final pat. “All done.”

Thomas grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thanks, daddy.”

Manuel’s heart skipped a beat at the nickname. “No problem.”

Thomas sat back up and crossed his legs applesauce style, like a young child would. He looked expectantly at Manuel, who raised an eyebrow.

“Are you gonna eat your lunch?” Thomas asked.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” Manuel had completely forgotten about his food; he had been distracted and entranced by the arrival of Thomas. And of course by the whole shin guard removal thing. He set out his food out in front of him, just like he did every other time he unpacked his lunch.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” Thomas said happily, and he proceeded to pick up Manuel’s sandwich and dig in with absolutely no shame.

“Thomas!” Manuel exclaimed as he reached to try and get his sandwich back. Thomas held it behind his back and giggled.

Manuel sighed. “Okay, you win. But what are you always eating my food for? Don’t you bring your own?”

“No,” Thomas said as if this were the most blatantly obvious thing in the world before stuffing the remainder of the sandwich into his mouth.

“Why not?” Manuel took a bite of his apple.

Thomas shrugged and swallowed dramatically, patting his chest as if helping the food down. “Forgot to.”

Manuel smiled and shook his head. “Oh, Thomas… I’ve known you for three days and you’re already exhausting me.”

“Ha, ha,” said Thomas sarcastically. He picked up a carrot and threw it lightly at Manuel, who let his jaw drop in a pretend expression of shock and offense. Thomas laughed, clearly entertained by Manuel’s unimpressive acting skills, and Manuel had an idea.

He lunged forward while Thomas was caught up in chirpy laughter and began tickling him ferociously. Thomas shrieked and thrashed around in the grass, managing to squeeze a few feeble words in between fits of laughter. "Stop!... No!... I can’t…breathe!... Ahh! Manuel!”

“It’s payback time, kid,” Manuel scolded. And when Thomas’ laughter became so intense it turned silent, Manuel ceased his attack and pinned the boy to the grass by laying on top of him.

“Now, _this_ is more like it. Can’t get any of my food now, can you? And you do make a very nice pillow…” Manuel snickered.

“Get... off!” Thomas begged, half laughing and half choking to death under Manuel's immense body weight.

Finally, Manuel felt mercy and rolled off the poor boy. He was so skinny; for a second, Manuel was worried that he might have actually hurt him. But his concern quickly faded when Thomas immediately clambered back up to a seated position, a ditzy smile in place, breathing hard from the playful assault.

“How’d you like that?” Manuel offered teasingly, sitting back up against his tree.

Thomas crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "You’re too funny.”

Manuel chuckled at his friend's expression.

"You can share my lunch, Thomas. It’s okay. I was just kidding,” he clarified after a brief moment.

“I know that,” the boy responded.

They sat in silence while they gobbled down the rest of Manuel’s lunch, and whenever they caught each other’s eyes they would grin from ear to ear. Once they had finished, Thomas helped Manuel set aside the empty wrappings.

The lunchtime scrimmage had begun, and neither boy said anything about it. Thomas dropped his head and started picking at blades of grass. Manuel lay down on his back and gazed up at the leaves again. It was just like a night sky, though this sky was green and the sunlight poking through acted as the stars. Next to him, the sound of grass being pulled from the dirt occurred at a steady rhythm.

“Manuel?” Thomas said quietly.

“Hmm?”

There was a pause. “When do you think it’s okay to love someone?”

Manuel frowned. “All the time? I’m not exactly sure what you mean.”

“What I mean is, when’s it okay to _start_ loving someone?”

And Manuel understood. His heart rate sped up for what felt like the thousandth time since he’d been around Thomas.

“I think you can love whoever you want, whenever you want to. It’s unfair of people to make all these stupid conditions for when you’re allowed to officially love someone, and then accuse you of not really loving said person if something seems even a little bit off. It’s dumb. I think that all that needs to happen for you to love someone is to realize that you love them. Simple as that. It’s not a decision you make, it just happens. And it doesn’t matter who the person is, how you met them, or how long you’ve known them. Love can mean so many different things, and it means something different to every person. Don’t let anyone try to change that for you, Thomas.”

Manuel turned his head to see that Thomas had stopped staring at the ground and was now looking at him anxiously, twirling a blade of grass around his finger.

“Okay?” Manuel said gently.

Thomas nodded, and the air hung heavy with unspoken words. Slowly, Manuel shifted back to a seated position against his tree and patted the ground next to him. Thomas obliged and scooted over so he was close to Manuel, their sweaty bodies pressing into one another. It was definitely too hot outside for that kind of affection, but in this moment Manuel didn’t mind at all.

“So it’s okay for me to love you?” Thomas’ voice came out small and uncertain.

“Yes.”

“Even though I’ve only known you for three days?”

“Even though you’ve only known me for three days.”

“Okay, then. I love you.”

“Okay.”

Thomas hadn't expected anything more, but the simple word still stung fiercely. He didn’t say anything, he just swallowed hard and stared out at the vastness in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” Manuel said quietly. Thomas’ obvious pain was contagious, and it was a much worse pain than the achiness Manuel felt from all the drills and exercising. “It takes me a little longer to warm up to people.”

He snaked an arm around his hurt friend and gripped his shoulder, tenderly kneading it. Thomas allowed his head to rest on Manuel’s own shoulder. For several minutes they simply sat there like that, Thomas’ smaller frame safely tucked under Manuel’s arm.

“You have so much courage, Thomas, much more than I ever will have, and I admire you for that. Unlike me, you’re not afraid to love.”

Thomas sniffled and Manuel held him tighter.

“It sucks,” the boy muttered.

“I know it does now. But in the end, it’ll all pay off. I promise,” Manuel said serenely.

Thomas seemed to ignore this remark. “What are you so afraid of?” He wanted to know.

“I think you know exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Unexpectedly, Thomas wiggled out of Manuel’s hold and the two friends stared at each other. An accusatory look had settled on Thomas’ face, and Manuel bit his lip, feeling guilty.

“You should know something, Manuel. You can’t just sit around by yourself all the time, not doing anything except wishing and hoping for things to happen. Yeah, sometimes they will, but most of the time they don't and you’ll spend your entire life waiting for everything and everyone to come to you. That isn’t even fair. You’re no more important than anyone else is, you need to put in the effort too and I know that you’re capable of it. It’s scary, it really is. But it’s something you need to suck up and get over if you want to be happy.”

Thomas ended his lecture but kept his eyes locked on Manuel’s. His facial expression softened, yet Manuel still struggled for words. He knew that what Thomas just said was true. He had always known it but never allowed himself to accept it. And now that it had been thrown right in his face, he felt scared and shocked.

“ _You_ came to me, though,” he finally pointed out.

Thomas nodded. “Because I follow my own advice.”

Manuel let this sink in. As he did, Thomas grabbed his shin guards, stood up and started walking back to the field.

“Wait,” Manuel begged. Thomas stopped walking and turned back around. He didn’t look angry, he wasn’t upset with Manuel at all. He just looked hurt. Manuel pushed himself onto his feet, and Thomas came back over. His shin guards fell from his clutch and for a short moment, he just stood there, being sad, in front of Manuel.

Then at the same time, both boys lifted their arms, and they fell into a desperate hug. Manuel rubbed Thomas’ sweat soaked back, and Thomas dug his fingers into Manuel’s. It was incredibly claustrophobic given the unforgiving heat and how tightly they held each other, and both boys reeked of body odor. But it was wonderful, and Manuel savored every bit of warmth that passed between them. He would have been perfectly happy to just remain like this forever, wrapped in Thomas’ needy arms, and the tenderness of their embrace made time seem infinite. Everything about this strange, goofy boy from football camp, Manuel just couldn’t get enough of.

And then it ended. The whistle sounded, signalling the end of the lunch break, and the two boys grudgingly separated. Manuel offered a shy smile as they stood there together, neither one wanting to go back.

"Well," Manuel said awkwardly after several seconds. "Should we head back now?”

“I guess so,” Thomas replied glumly. He held out a hand, and Manuel laced his fingers through the boy’s. Then they began the walk back to the field, their sticky hands linked together like two little children who just promised to marry each other.

“You’re a great friend, Manuel. I already know I can trust you with anything,” Thomas confidently said.

“Same to you,” Manuel replied honestly.

They caught each other’s eyes; Manuel was still awed by the brilliant blue hue of Thomas’. The corners of Thomas’ lips turned up slightly, and Manuel mirrored him.

Once they were within sight of the rest of the boys and the coaches, they quickly dropped hands and jogged the rest of the way, not uttering another word or even looking at each other.

Tomorrow, thought Manuel, I’ll ask for his phone number. Then when camp is finished, we can hang out for real.

Manuel had no idea that Thomas was thinking the same thing.

But what Manuel also didn’t know at the time was that he had already spoken with his new friend for the last time.


	5. Friday

**FRIDAY**

When Manuel woke up on Friday morning, sunlight was already blasting through the cracks in his blinds. He lay there for several minutes, feeling comfortable and sleepy. As he regained awareness, everything from yesterday came flooding back. He felt happy.

What time was it anyway? Manuel yawned and reached clumsily for his alarm clock. Bringing it in front of his eyes - 10:47? Shit! The last day of camp had begun nearly two hours ago, and lunch was in less than an hour.

Manuel dropped everything and flew out of bed, scrambling around for his clothes, water bottle and athletic bag. He dressed furiously and then, pulling on a shoe in the process, ran out the door, his bag slipping off his shoulder. There was no time for breakfast and he hadn’t even bothered brushing his teeth. Surely, he looked like an absolute wreck, but he didn’t care. He only had one thing on his mind: getting to Thomas.

Luckily, the field was only a few blocks away from Manuel’s house, and he managed to make a pompous arrival shortly before 11.

“I’m… here…” He panted to a coach who was sat on the sideline bench with a clipboard. Manuel dropped his bag heavily and bent over, hands on his knees, to try and catch his breath.

The coach lifted his head to give Manuel a disapproving glance, then deciding he wasn’t important enough, returned to the clipboard. “You like running, kid?”

“Uhm. Not really. I overslept, and that’s why - ”

“Excellent. Get on the track and run until I tell you to stop. Lateness is unacceptable. You wasted my time, I’ll waste yours,” the coach grunted.

“What?!” Manuel exclaimed, standing up straight again. This could not be happening. He was not someone to back talk, but he needed to get out on the pitch with the rest of the boys, with Thomas, and join in whatever drill they were currently working on.

“You heard me.”

“No, please, it’s not fair, I -”

“ _Goodbye._ ”

Manuel didn’t even try to disguise the irritated huff that escaped his lips. He kicked at the ground angrily and began jogging the track, as slowly as he possibly could in pure spite of the douchey coach. I don’t give a shit, Manuel tried to convey. He hoped the coach was watching him.

How had he wasted the coach’s time anyway? He hadn’t even _been_ here to waste anyone’s time. That was just complete bullshit. He had signed up for this camp and paid money to get better at football, not to run laps around a track for god-knows-how-long. He was being screwed over and it was unfair.

This was not how today was supposed to go at all. He was frustrated at himself for oversleeping on such an important day. It was the last session of camp, and he had reminded himself several times in bed last night that if he chickened out and didn’t get Thomas’ number, he would never see or hear from the boy again. He simply couldn’t allow that to happen. He was excited and nervous all at once, the nervousness made exponentially worse by the unexpected circumstances of the morning. He was completely caught off guard, and still feeling hazy from waking up 15 minutes ago, he was confused as well.

As he jogged, he vaguely watched the drills and listened to the yelling and instruction that came from the pitch, the sound of the ball being attacked. He could not concentrate on figuring out what that drill was, but it certainly looked intense and mildly violent.

He prayed he would get to stop running in time for lunch. Not that he had actually brought anything to eat, but he absolutely needed to talk to Thomas. It was his last chance. He didn’t want to think about what the consequences might be if he missed out on getting the boy’s phone number. By now, Manuel was panicking. All the conflicting thoughts and emotions of anger, worry, anticipation swirled harshly around his empty stomach, and the sun beating down had no mercy on his queasiness or pounding head.

This was horrible. Manuel was stressed, it was all too much for such a short period of time after waking up. Was this just some awful nightmare that had been going on for the past 20 minutes? Would he wake up safely in his bed, with enough time to get ready for camp? Please, thought Manuel. Please let me be dreaming.

The good news was, things couldn’t possibly get any worse. Surely he wouldn’t be forced to run through the deathly essential lunch break. No, he couldn’t possibly be cheated out of lunch, too. Manuel attempted to console himself as he ran, picking up the pace. And hey, even if he missed lunch, he could simply approach the boy after the day was over. It was all going to be okay. He was going to leave the last day of football camp with a 10-digit number in his hand and a promise to meet up soon.

Just as Manuel was cheering himself up and coming up behind the sideline bench again, he felt his attention pulled toward the goal he had just passed. Thomas was dribbling skillfully and another boy was running, hard, in his direction. Suddenly, Manuel knew what was going to happen before it did.

He willed the other boy to stop. He used all the power in his head to try and knock him over before he reached Thomas, roll over his own ankle, whatever. He simply could not allow this other boy to get to Thomas. _No!_

Manuel’s mental efforts proved to be feeble. He was not aware that he had completely stopped running and was now stood behind the sideline bench, watching everything as it happened in slow motion with wide, horrified eyes and an agape mouth.

Thomas and the other boy collided, and the world stood still. Blood rushed through Manuel’s head, he heard nothing but a buzzing sound in his ears. He thought he would lose his balance and had to grab onto the back of the bench. Please let time freeze. Please let Thomas be suspended in the air forever so he doesn’t land with his knee horribly around twisted like that.

The next thing Manuel knew, Thomas had let out a terrible scream and was on the ground, his knee in too much pain to grab, writhing around in agony. The sounds that Thomas was emitting made Manuel’s queasiness evolve into full-blown nausea. This nightmare had been taken too far. It was time to wake up.

But no such thing happened. Instead, a circle formed around the injured boy. There was noise, but Manuel couldn’t make out what it was. The douchey coach on the bench in front of Manuel had lept up and was now tending to Thomas. Don’t touch him, Manuel thought indignantly, jealousy coursing through him. Nobody touch him. Manuel knew he was being ridiculously selfish; the boy needed help, and if Manuel was just going to pathetically stand here, not budging a muscle, then someone else needed to help him.

“Get back,” he heard someone yell. “Back up!” And the circle broke, allowing two coaches to scoop Thomas up under their arms and lift him. Then they began walking with him - straight to where Manuel was stood behind the bench, rooted to the spot.

As Thomas was brought closer, Manuel was able to get a closer look at his friend. His face had turned a nasty shade of gray, his hair disheveled, his scared blue eyes reflected the unbearable pain stemming from his crumpled knee. Oh god, the knee. Manuel roughly swallowed the bile that was rising quickly in his throat at the sight of it.

The coaches sat Thomas on the bench carefully, just to the left of Manuel. One of them crouched down and continued tending to the poor boy while the other went to fetch something, probably ice. Neither coach noticed Manuel standing a few feet away. Still moaning wildly, Thomas’ head fell back and his eyes screwed shut, a harsh grimace in place. He had not noticed Manuel frozen behind him either.

Manuel still had not moved an inch, and he was surprised his knees had not yet given up on him. He knew exactly what he should be doing right now, but he could not find the courage to do it. _Help me,_ he heard Thomas’ voice in his head. _I’m hurting. Please come here and hold me, comfort me, tell me I’ll be okay. Please, Manu._

 _I’m right here,_ Manuel thought back desperately. _I’m right here behind you, but I’m not brave enough to come be with you. I’m sorry._

With obvious difficulty, Thomas opened his eyes, turned his head and caught sight of Manuel. Manuel looked away and focused forward, on the pitch in front of him where the boys had resumed their drills like nothing had happened. How could their worlds keep on spinning while Manuel’s had fallen right off its axis? He didn’t have the strength to look into those eyes right now, to see how their usual brightness had faded into fear and disappointment. Disappointment in Manuel.

_Don’t be afraid, Manu. I know you can do it. Look at me. Just look at me._

And Manuel looked. He felt his heart shatter. In those blue eyes was the most pleading, miserable look he had ever seen, his colorless lips quivering. A wave of dizziness cascaded over Manuel, he shook his head at the boy, and then he was off before he knew it.

He ran away. Far away. He was unsteady at first, but he found his footing after several wobbly strides. He ran so hard that his lungs burned and his legs went numb. Where he was going, he had no clue. Getting away from Thomas was the only comprehensible thought in a tirade of nonsense swimming through his head.

His tree. His and Thomas’ tree. Please not the tree, Manuel thought. He didn’t even glance at it as he sprinted by.

_“You’re a great friend, Manuel.”_

Run faster. Away from the boy.

_“I already know I can trust you with anything.”_

Faster still.

_“Okay, then. I love you.”_

He was home.

\---

When Manuel regained consciousness, he was in his bed, still fully clad in his athletic clothes but someone had taken his shoes off. How he ended up here, he didn’t remember.

Something had pulled him out of his darkness. Although it was now dark outside too, a foggy reminder to Manuel that he had not had a single bite to eat all day. That is, if it even was the same day. What day was it? How long had he been passed out or asleep or whatever it had been? Manuel was lost.

Then he remembered two things. The boy from football camp he would now certainly never see again, and how Manuel had betrayed his injured friend so abruptly and so carelessly.

Thomas had been hurt badly, silently begged to be comforted, and Manuel had bolted like a psychomaniac in response. What kind of person even does that? A coward, that’s who. A selfish coward. On top of that, he had failed to get the boy’s phone number or any other contact information the whole week, so he had no means of apologizing and making it up to him. He didn’t even know the boy’s last name or what district he went to school in. Come to think of it, he didn’t know much of anything about the boy. All Manuel knew was that he cared deeply about his new friend and had obliterated the trust the boy had put in him. And now he had no chance of gaining it back because he would never see the boy again. Great job, Manuel. Way to freaking go.

If he hadn't been knocked out for so long, he would've crashed out of bed just like he had this morning, run straight back to the boy just the same way he had run away from him, and make everything right like it was supposed to be, holding him tightly in his arms and taking his pain away.

But it was too late.

If this was how things were going to go instead, Manuel should've at least had the courtesy to say goodbye.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he lay there in the darkness, alone, just like he always was.


	6. Six Months Later

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

Everything was okay.

It was all okay again.

Thomas was with him, and they were happy. Thomas roamed ahead of Manuel on the unkempt trail that wound through the forest, interested in anything and everything like a small child would be. Manuel dawdled behind, simply enjoying the presence of the boy and watching him with amusement. He was adorable; there was no other way to put it. Every turtle and every deer that Thomas spotted, he excitedly pointed out to Manuel. They even saw a bear with her cubs off in the distance, making Thomas’ bright blue eyes grow wide and shine in awe. Manuel was lucky to be able to call Thomas his.

It was hot. Manuel was perspiring heavily and did not understand why Thomas was not dripping in sweat like he was. It was bright, too. Too bright, Manuel wished he had brought his sunglasses; everything seemed to be shimmering and out of focus. He squinted his eyes against the dazzling glare that seemed to be coming from nowhere, but this did no good and Manuel was getting a minor headache as well as aching eyes. However, he chose to ignore this slight inconvenience and the oddity of the heat and extreme brightness in the middle of a deep forest. There were more important things to mind, including the fact that he was with Thomas and without a worry.

“Why are you so _slow?”_ Thomas whined from several meters in front of him. He had turned around and was swinging his arms around his torso, clearly impatient with his companion.

“Because I’m enjoying my time with you. I never want this to end,” Manuel answered tenderly, approaching the boy and wrapping an arm around his lower back.Thomas did the same except instead of resting his hand on Manuel’s hip like Manuel had done to him, he placed it on Manuel’s firm butt and gave a quick squeeze, causing Manuel to jerk forward in surprise. Thomas giggled, an adorably innocent smile lighting his face.

“Don’t worry Manu, this path never ends. We’ll be here forever, just the two of us, together,” he replied jubilantly. A ladybug landed on the tip of his nose and Manuel grinned at Thomas’ unawareness of his new little friend.

“There’s a ladybug on your nose,” Manuel informed the boy.

“I stand corrected, then. The three of us!”

At this comment, both boys cracked up. It wasn’t even that funny, but it was impossible not to laugh at the slightest provocation when there was so much happiness and so little concern in the atmosphere. The sound of Thomas’ laughter was beautiful, and Manuel wondered why he had never realized this before. Nothing else mattered in the world except the boy.

They laughed until the ladybug began to irritate Thomas’ nose, and Manuel scooped the little guy off with his pinky finger and let it fly away. “Goodbye!” he said buoyantly.

“So now it’s just us two again,” Thomas pointed out, rubbing with the back of his hand where the ladybug had been.

“Yeah. It is,” said Manuel dreamily, suddenly caught up in the silence of the deep forest. It reverberated between the two of them, neither boy speaking another word as they continued down the trail, each boy holding onto the other as if to prevent him from falling away into an irretrievable vortex. It was a perfect feeling, and Manuel felt goosebumps of pleasure prickling all over his body, whereas a certain area throbbed greedily. Why was it so freaking bright out here though? It didn’t make any sense.

The intense heat and resplendence were making Manuel feel giddy, and he suddenly pulled away from Thomas to collapse onto his knees. All at once, he became extremely dizzy, his eyes ached intolerably, his vision was obscured by dark swirls.

“Manu? What are you doing? Are you okay? Thomas sounded worried, but his voice was strangely far off.

“Thomas,” Manuel said softly, his voice shaking violently. “Thomas, I’m going to pass out. Help me...”

“Goodbye, Manuel, I’ll meet you back home!” Thomas chanted, and he darted off into the forest, his feet barely touching the ground.

First the ladybug, then the boy. “So it’s just the one of me now, I guess,” Manuel muttered vaguely.

Then he passed out.

\---

Wait, no. He hadn’t passed out. He had woken up. And he wasn’t in a forest with the boy from football camp. He was in his bed, his sheets a twisted disaster around his sweaty, shivering body, very much by himself.

“Oh, no…” He moaned. “Please… Thomas...”

Manuel buried his face into his cool pillow, trying to squash away everything that was happening in his head. He couldn’t take it. He just couldn’t.

He whined softly, wanting so badly to cry but finding himself unable to. It hurt too much, and he was scared. He kicked off his sheets and heard them fall lightly onto the floor. He continued making muffled, pain-filled noises into his pillow until he was drained of energy. Then, to his great relief, he felt himself drifting off again. Better to be in a dreamworld that recreates and intensifies your fears than to be in the real one that offers safety and sanity. In the dreamworld, pain cannot really be felt; it just exists there, bottling up and preparing to strike when the dreamer can make sense of it upon awakening.

\---

By the next morning when he was at school, Manuel had shaken off the nightmare. He really hadn’t dreamt about Thomas much; the boy only made fleeting, insignificant appearances every once in a while that Manuel instantly forgot the moment he woke up.

The first week after football camp, Manuel had been a miserable wreck of guilt, anger, regret, longing, loss, depression, and everything in between. He was angry at Thomas for getting hurt, for totally throwing him off. Manuel hated when things didn't go as planned; he preferred to know exactly what to expect, hence his proneness to flip out when things went awry. He felt guilty that this anger towards the boy was present. Needless to say, he didn't get hurt on purpose, didn't twist his knee inside out just for the fun of it. The most unbearable part of it all, the part that disgusted Manuel the most deeply, was how he had completely abandoned the helpless boy when he wanted him, needed him the most, in the most deranged, insulting way possible. Thomas had trusted Manuel, had the courage to approach him and be purely honest with him; Manuel offered an avalanche of less than nothing in return, not even an explanation. Though there was no proper explanation or excuse for Manuel's erratic behavior, whether he had been right in the head at the time or not.

He missed Thomas. He desperately wished to redo the last week of football camp, do it right this time. Realize that he was not the only one that mattered in this friendship. He had been so focused on himself and his nervousness that he failed to think about Thomas' feelings. He had failed to appreciate all the lovely little things about Thomas, from his two outside teeth that were a touch longer than the rest to the way his entire face scrunched up adorably when he was overcome with laughter. Thomas was one of those people whose sparky, lovable personality and adorable demeanor naturally demanded protection, and it made Manuel jealous. When Thomas had been injured and receiving care, Manuel was not only jealous of the coaches and boys who tended to him, touched him and carried him; he was also jealous of Thomas himself for the tremendous amount of attention he was receiving. Manuel felt sick thinking about his terribly placed jealousy.

It was an tormentous emotional whirlwind. But after several days of hell, he had taken a shower, brushed his teeth, eaten a proper meal and slowly reentered himself into his normal life. He enjoyed the rest of his summer holiday, avoiding thoughts of a certain boy at all costs. As long as he kept himself occupied, he was perfectly okay.

When school started up again in the fall and Manuel was forced to begin packing his usual lunch again, he was painfully reminded of the boy from football camp. He found he could not tolerate the thought of eating the sandwich or the chips, so he threw them away on his first day back and started bringing in substitutes for the two impacted items. No big deal, Manuel told himself.

So as Manuel and his classmates got deeper into the school year, with more material and more homework to be considered, the boy from football camp was pushed to the back of Manuel’s head. There was simply no room in there for useless worries and regrets. The boy was not coming back. Manuel was not going to see him again. He had conducted a thorough search on Facebook and asked every single person he knew if they had ever heard of a boy named Thomas who was really good at football, but his efforts earned him nothing. Their short friendship had ended with a heat-of-the-moment crazy and fatal mistake, and there was simply no possible way to make amends now. There was no way to change what had happened. So what was the point in constantly stressing and wishing for things to be different? What was the use in hoping for time to turn back just so he could do one little thing differently, ask for the boy’s number when he had the chance or even just his last name or school? With difficulty, Manuel accepted this and moved on with his life. The world would keep spinning, with or without Manuel Neuer, and Manuel made the decision to tag along for the ride.

But regardless of Manuel’s strategic thought process and business with schoolwork and football practice, regardless of how indistinctly, Thomas still lingered around somewhere in his mind. That final imploring, anguished look that Thomas had given Manuel haunted his subconsciousness 24/7. So although he had recovered from the unexpected nightmare, he did not dismiss it.

And that’s why he decided to return to his tree for the first time since he had formed his final happy memory there with Thomas. Since that last nightmarish day of football camp, Manuel had refused to visit the park at all, not willing to allow any emotions to resurface, scared of what they would bring. But that evening, after he had wolfed down his pasta and ignored his homework, he wanted to go back. He wanted to go back to the tree he and Thomas had shared.

It was cold outside now, nothing like it was the last time he’d been there. He put on a jacket, wrapped a scarf around his neck, and tugged a hat on over his ears. Then, before he could change his mind, he was out the door, making the short walk to the place he had feared and avoided for the past half-year.

As he strolled down rapidly darkening streets, a thought jolted him. A memory. Where was it from? Manuel had a feeling it didn’t matter.

_I’m coming, Thomas. I’m meeting you back home._

And before he knew it, he was home. Not at his home, but their home.

He lowered himself so he was seated with his back against the tree trunk, just as he had sat six months ago, only the branches were barren of any bright green leaves and the wood was no longer moist and rich. He could not see far across the field; it was far too dark, and the cold winter air nipped meanly at his uncovered cheeks and fingers. The wind whistled past, and Manuel thought he saw a few lone, feeble snowflakes floating in the moonlight. Within minutes, his face and hands had gone painfully numb and he longed to return to his cozy, warm bedroom.

But he knew he couldn’t. He had already left Thomas once, no way was he going to do it again.

_I’m here, Thomas. I came to you. I wasn’t afraid this time. I’m home._

He closed his eyes and became very conscious of the empty space next to him. The space where Thomas had sat pressed up against him, and Manuel had pulled his aching body close, trying to make up somehow for the three words he couldn’t say back because he thought he wouldn’t mean them.

How this random boy from a nonspecific football camp had touched Manuel’s heart so meticulously yet with so much power in just four 30 minute intervals, Manuel couldn’t even begin to understand. But it didn’t matter how or why, all that mattered was the fact that it happened. Manuel knew he had changed in the last six months. He still may not have been the most courageous or outgoing, but he was more aware of himself, how he was perceived and how his actions affected others. And every day, he tried to include a little less hoping and a little more doing. He tried his best to be brave.

_Thank you for everything, Thomas. Thank you for loving me._

_I’m proud of you, Manu. I really am._

Manuel was not aware that he was crying until he felt cold wind blowing against the wetness on his cheeks, making his face feel even more frozen. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing the tears out.

“I love you, Thomas,” he murmured. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The words became a rhythm, but unlike most words that are repeated countless times in succession, these ones kept their meaning and only grew stronger. And Manuel didn’t stop until he had run fresh out of tears, until his cheeks and lips were throbbing with pain from the coldness and he could no longer make distinct letter sounds.

A single leaf dropped onto his shoulder. The same shoulder that Thomas had rested his sweaty head on months and months ago. It was dead, brown, and crinkly. But Manuel carefully picked it off and held it between his numb hands like it was a valuable piece of money or an autograph from a famous pop star.

At this point, Manuel couldn’t stand the bitter cold anymore. He stood up delicately and started the walk back to the house, his head held up high and proud, the stem of the meaningless leaf clamped between two fingers.

\---

He returned to his and Thomas’ tree on a near daily basis. Some days, the weather was forgiving and he brought a book or homework or something else to occupy him. Some days it was so cold he didn’t even sit down. But everyday, he came with the same wish; that Thomas would remember where he was most likely to find Manuel and be there too.

Some days he felt luckier than others. Some days he wanted to just give up on this whole stupid idea. But he never did. The boy from football camp had to come back some time. He simply had to.

One day, a particularly bitter one that is, Manuel decided to pay a quick visit to the park. He ducked his head against the merciless wind, shielding his eyes from the dry, cold air. As per usual, he headed straight for their tree.

The only variation from the norm was, someone was already sitting there, waiting for something.


	7. Six Months Later: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter!

**SIX MONTHS LATER: PART II**

Manuel’s boots crunched against the hard, frosted grass as he crossed the park towards the tree. The sky was a pure white-gray. A heavy snowstorm was forecast, so Manuel figured it was highly unlikely he would run into anyone at the park, let alone the one person he was looking for. But he felt he needed to go anyway, so he bundled up and left the house before the snowstorm could shut him in.

Despite the microscopic odds in Manuel’s favor, it seemed that he had been hit with some crazy stroke of luck. The boy was there. Sitting against their tree. Manuel blinked several times and even pinched himself just to be sure this wasn’t some sort of dream or mirage. But Thomas stayed exactly where he was in Manuel’s line of vision. Manuel breathed deeply, making clouds appear before his face. He continued on to the boy, warming his frozen hands by rubbing them together and bringing them to his mouth. With each step he took, he was more certain that it really was Thomas. They had finally met back home.

After what seemed like an eternity, he was finally stood a foot away from the boy, looking down at his precious form. He was huddled in a ball with his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his knees. He was not wearing a hat or a scarf, Manuel noticed. Only a thick, puffy jacket that contrasted endearingly with his thin body.

Thomas lifted his head upon hearing footsteps, and although his eyes lit up at the sight of Manuel, no other signs of relief appeared. His nose and cheeks were exceptionally pink, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

“Manu,” he whimpered, peering up at Manuel. “I’m cold.”

Manuel nodded curtly, then kneeled down to gather the sweet boy in the warmth of his body. Thomas nuzzled against Manuel, burying his face into his broad chest, and Manuel held him tightly. He moved one hand to caress the boy’s icy cheek and mumbled into his cold hair, “How long have you been waiting for me?”

“Since you ran away,” the boy answered candidly, his voice muffled by Manuel’s coat.

Manuel bit his lip and looked up at the empty branches. Snow had begun falling, a large flake landing between his eyes. Sorry didn’t mean anything. There was nothing he could say. Instead, he shifted backwards to free himself, removed his hat and tugged it down snugly onto Thomas’ head. Then he pulled off his scarf and wrapped it diligently around the boy’s neck and chin. A single snowflake landed elegantly on the boy's eyelashes.

Thomas was shivering violently and his facial expression broadcasted how desperately he wanted to be taken away from this miserably frigid situation. They needed to get out of here, get inside somewhere and do it fast.

Nonetheless, Manuel couldn’t get over how cute Thomas looked in his accessories. The pom-pom on top of the hat was askew, and he snuggled determinedly into the scarf, his rosy skin now specked with crystal flakes. But this was not the time to ogle at the poor boy. Manuel needed to take proper care of him; he simply could not afford to fail the task a second time.

Placing his hands on Thomas’ shaking shoulders to steady him, Manuel looked straight at him and said, “My house is right around the corner. Do you want me to bring you there?”

“Yes,” Thomas whispered, his numb lips barely moving, his eyes carrying that same pleading look as when he hurt his knee.

“Alright. Let’s go,” Manuel said flatly and he rose. Thomas took a little more time to get back on his feet, but once he had, he easily kept up with Manuel’s brisk pace. They braced themselves against the cold air and the increasing snowfall and half ran-half walked to their destination, Manuel in the lead by one or two strides. The wind was picking up now and the sky was deepening to a blue-ish gray. The streetlamps had switched on, casting an eerie orange glow.

By the time they had reached the end of the first block, the road was coated in a thin layer of slippery snow. In his haste, Manuel skidded a few inches and Thomas immediately grabbed his arm to steady him. And although Manuel regained his footing instantly, he didn’t let go.

No words were spoken as they hurried down the streets, Thomas clutching Manuel like a child would his teddy bear. Manuel didn’t once look back to check on his companion.

“Here,” Manuel muttered once they had arrived in front of his house. He shook off Thomas’ hold and placed a hand on his back to steer him up the front pathway. To Manuel’s great relief, the car was not in the driveway, meaning his parents had not yet returned from the grocery store. His brother was home, but he would probably be more than happy to leave Manuel and his friend alone.

Once Manuel and Thomas were safely indoors, they stripped off their heavy garments and winter accessories, save for the hat Manuel had lent the boy. The extreme change in temperature was relieving, but discomforting as well; Manuel’s underarms instantly began prickling upon entering. Everything was tossed into a messy pile by the side door and the boys were left in their jeans and shirts.

“Ahhh,” Thomas sighed contentedly as he collapsed onto the couch, stretching his feet out onto the coffee table.

“Make yourself at home,” said Manuel sarcastically as he made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Where you going?” Thomas wanted to know.

“I’ll be right back, stay right there and don’t get yourself into any trouble.”

“Can I come?

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“It’s a surprise,” Manuel explained. He left the living room and wandered into the kitchen, digging through cabinets until he found what he was looking for. As he prepared the treats, he hummed softly.

Meanwhile, Thomas had become acclimated to the warmer temperature of the house and got up to search for a blanket. He ambled about and came across a staircase. Excited by his discovery, he took the carpeted steps two at a time and found himself right outside a bedroom. Was it Manuel’s? Judging by the football paraphernalia decorating the place, he assumed so.

Manuel returned to the living room, balancing two large mugs of hot chocolate in his hands and holding several napkins with his mouth. He had carefully topped each drink with a copious pile of whipped cream and even managed to scrounge up some chocolate chips and two candy canes for extra fanciness. Noting the disappearance of Thomas, he rolled his eyes and set the mugs and napkins down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the couch.

Fortunately, Thomas came barrelling down the stairs at the same moment. He sauntered back into the living room, carrying a large blanket from Manuel’s bed and wearing a pair of sweatpants he found in the closet. Jeans were much too uncomfortable for lounging about in, after all.

Manuel shook his head in amusement. “Oh, Thomas...only you. Only you.”

Thomas grinned proudly, the first Manuel had witnessed since football camp, and he couldn’t help beaming back. The sweatpants were a couple sizes too large for Thomas and his face was still flushed from the cold. With the striped winter hat still pulled down low over his head, Manuel decided he looked like a clown gone wrong. A terribly cute clown gone wrong.

“Only me,” Thomas repeated happily. He plopped down on the couch next to Manuel and draped the blanket over both of them.

“Did you notice I made you something?”

“What’s that? Oh, hot cocoa! You’re the best, Manu,” Thomas blithed, reaching wildly for the mug closest to him.

Manuel grimaced and his eyes widened. “Don’t - “ he began before being interrupted by a slosh of hot liquid that landed on the blanket. “ - spill it…”

“Sorry!” Thomas pouted.

“It’s fine, I came prepared,” Manuel assured the clumsy boy as he pressed a napkin to the mess. “I had a feeling something like this might happen…”

“Shut up,” replied Thomas as he stirred his cocoa with the candy cane, his tongue poking between his lips as he concentrated furiously on keeping the contents within the mug.

Manuel tossed the soaked napkin to the side. “Why do I always end up feeding you and dressing you and sheltering you anyway? Can’t you take care of your own basic needs?”

“Because you love me.”

Thomas nestled closer to Manuel. Outside, the snow was falling heavily but the boys were cozy underneath the blanket, their body heat and close proximity having quickly warmed the space. They sipped on their hot chocolate, Thomas a bit more noisily than Manuel, and watched the whiteness accumulate out the window.

“I do, Thomas. I do.”

When the mugs had been emptied, they were set back on the coffee table. Manuel adjusted Thomas and pulled him snugly against his chest. He reached under the boy’s shirt and folded his hands over his hot stomach, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. The heat that passed between them was incredible, and all Manuel wanted to do was hold the boy closer and never let go. He didn't want to make a mistake and lose him again, so he held on extra tight.

“I missed you,” Thomas said quietly.

“I’m sorry for leaving,” said Manuel fervently. He wanted to explain, to come up with a reason, but what was the point? Thomas already knew precisely why Manuel left, there was no way he couldn’t have figured it out. It was a moment before Manuel continued. “Do you forgive me?”

Thomas took a breath and released it and Manuel felt his stomach expand and contract. “Can’t say that I do.”

Manuel let his head fall and burrow into the crook of the boy’s neck.

“What’s done is done. But you came back, and that’s what counts the most. You can’t undo mistakes, but it’s never too late to fix them. I knew you would come back, I knew you’d find me somehow,” Thomas added.

“I knew where to find you. It just took a few tries.”

Manuel felt Thomas nod. He shifted back off of Manuel, who withdrew. They turned to face each other, Manuel biting his lips shut as he stared into Thomas’ honeyed blue eyes. Thomas’ lips were quivering and very pink.

But before Manuel could lean in, Thomas turned back forward, dipped his head, and rubbed his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Manuel inquired gently.

“I’m just tired,” Thomas murmured.

Manuel tried to disguise his disappointment as he pulled the boy back to him. “It’s okay. Go to sleep. I'll stay with you, I promise.”

Thomas tilted his head back to peer up at Manuel. “Kiss me first.”

And Manuel dropped his head to slowly peck the boy’s hungry lips. “There you go. Now you can sleep.”

Thomas adjusted himself until he was curled up comfortably with his head in Manuel’s lap. Manuel tucked him back into the blanket and Thomas’ eyelids fluttered shut.

“I hope it snows so much that you can’t get back to your house tonight,” Manuel said, tracing the boy’s parted lips with the tip of his finger.

“I wasn’t planning on it, snowstorm or not,” answered Thomas sleepily.

Manuel smiled. “Do you want me to take that hat off for you?"

Thomas shook his head. Manuel ignored him and removed it anyway so he could run his fingers through the boy’s hat-hair, smoothing it out and massaging his scalp. Thomas did not protest.

While the boy fell asleep, Manuel felt himself drifting off too. It was so comfortable and so warm, it was impossible not to. He listened to Thomas’ soft, rhythmic breathing as he hypnotically watched the snow sparkling in the streetlights, dancing downwards to join the white blanket that already covered the earth.

It was beautiful. Manuel had been given a second chance, and now the boy was here safely in his arms. He felt amazingly fortunate. There was still trust to be rebuilt and Manuel had his own little quirks to work out, but this was only the beginning.

“I love you,” Manuel whispered.

The boy from football camp was now fast asleep, but Manuel had a feeling he understood all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go :)
> 
> 1\. I was guilted into writing a happy ending...I originally planned on having them never meet again but nahh. I guess these two were just meant to be :)
> 
> 2\. It took me longer to write this cause I had trouble deciding what I wanted to happen and how they'd react and stuff. So I really hope you're not disappointed :/
> 
> 3\. This was very loosely based on a true story that I experienced in case you were wondering where the idea came from. I didn't get the happy ending though :( But life goes on!! :)
> 
> 4\. I really hope you enjoyed this. Thank you sooooo much for reading and for your kudos and for those who have commented you are absolutely amazing <3
> 
> 5\. I plan on doing some one shots next (except both my two stories were supposed to be one shots too but ended up as series/chapters oops)
> 
> 6\. This is a really long freaking note oh my god I'm so sorry if you actually read the whole thing I love you
> 
> What'd you think of ending or the story in general?
> 
> THANK YOU :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. I'd absolutely love to hear what you think, so don't be shy! Leave a comment, every single word of feedback makes me so happy :)


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